


Ganja

by stormysunshine



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Erik Killmonger - Freeform, F/M, Killmonger - Freeform, Love, Marijuana, Sex, Smut, Wakanda, Weed, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 16:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20343511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormysunshine/pseuds/stormysunshine
Summary: A night in with Erik, Ginger, and a joint.





	Ganja

The orange streetlights broke lazily through the impending evening and remnants of rain. Droplets still bounced against window panes and cracking pavement, retaining the scent of wet Earth. 

Erik sat up in bed, a plume of smoke snaking its way out of his lips and through his open window. The taste of marijuana lingered on his tongue, drowsing his mind. He was complacent with the feeling. It relieved doubts of his future, allowing his mind to run free with the idea of conquering the place he should have always called home. _I should be working_, he mused while flicking off the ash at the burning tip of the joint. After he had his feel, leaving but a roach, he would leave the apartment, he concluded, bringing stick back to his lips. 

But before he could pull another lungful of the plant, he felt the body beside him stir and a woman's voice ask sleepily, "Damn. You wasn't gonna share?"

Ginger was looking at him, the soft, dark curls that always reminded Erik of storm clouds framing her face. She had been a good friend of his for the past three years, the only person he truly allowed in his personal space. She was a cool chick, an around-the-way girl who knew who she was and what she wanted. Erik admired that in a person. It did not hurt that she was great in bed, too. 

Her bedroom eyes followed him as he took his pull and then handed her the joint. 

"Why can't I ever just have my own?" Erik wondered aloud with a smirk that showed he was not upset. 

"'Cause sharing is caring, nigga," Ginger snorted and took a drag so deeply that her cheeks, normally round, became concave. The glint of her eyebrow piercing shined when she lifted one. "This is some good shit." She took another hit. "Mmm...that's nice." She handed it back to him, her head returning to her pillow a she quietly watched him. 

"What?" Erik asked after another puff. Ginger was a talkative woman, always having something to say when a moment called for it. So, when she was quiet, it tended to unnerve Erik. He did not like being unable to read people, even if it was someone he trusted, like Ginger. It was a gateway to vulnerability, and that was the last thing he needed in his line of work. 

"You always look like you thinkin' hard about somethin'." Ginger sat up a bit, her cheek in her palm. "What'chu be thinkin' about?" 

It was none of her concern, Erik presumed. None of his thoughts were to escape the confines of his mind. He could not trust others with them. He shrugged, then lowered his eyes, biting back a simper. "Thinkin' about how I wanna tear that ass up again."

Ginger scanned his face, considering him for a moment before chuckling and shaking her head. "Always deflectin'," she accused, but she moved closer to him so she could kiss his bare chest. "Never tryna tell somebody how you really feelin'," she continued between kisses. She teased her tongue around his nipple, biting it lightly before repeating the motions on the other. 

Erik ashed the joint on the tray that sat dutifully on the window seal. "And?" He cupped her face in his hands and brought her near his. "What about it?"

Ginger did not answer, only scrutinizing him with a dark chocolate gaze. She simpered, and Erik chuckled. "Come'ere," he beckoned and dropped his tongue into her mouth.

It swirled around hers, her supple lips taking his into her mouth. Wet smacks reverberated throughout the room, and with one final suck of his bottom lip, Ginger pulled away. She did not say anything verbally, but the coyness in her eyes spoke volumes. She slid down the length of his body until she came to the hem of his drawers. Ginger was never hesitated, hardly ever teasing as she wanted her fill immediately, even when she was the giver. 

She pulled down his drawers, his length springing free and ready. She rose a brow and Erik shrugged. "You know I'm always ready for you."

Ginger smirked, shaking her head as she held him in a soft hand. She pumped him a few times before wrapping her lips around the head. 

The heated expertness of her tongue and lips had Erik groaning. He held the back of her head, pressing her to take him deeper in her throat. Ginger did so with little objection, re-positioning herself on her elbows so she had a better angle. Erik nearly came when she looked up at him and did not break his gaze. If only that woman knew what it did to him when he saw that look in her eye, the gaze that read, _I got you right where I want you_.

"Fuck," he moaned, "just like that." He enjoyed the sounds of her slight gagging every time she took him past her point of comfort. Ginger was a woman of fierceness, Erik knew, because even at the points where she struggled, she held a determination that other women he had been with did not. He clutched her hair and pulled her mouth from around him and she giggled. 

"You know I don't mind swallowing," she reminded innocently, sitting up and crawling her way to his lap. She draped her arms around his muscular shoulders. "I like the way you taste." 

Erik smirked before reaching over to the forgotten blunt. He grabbed the lighter beside the ashtray and re-lit it. "I like the way you taste, too," he said, instantly reminded of just how delectable her flesh was when her thighs were on either side of his face two hours earlier. As she sat above his length, he could feel her heat and that she was moist, ready for consumption whether it came from his third leg or mouth. 

He put the joint to his lips and pulled the grass down into his belly. He let it linger, let it metabolize with his mind and blood before he pinched her chin between his forefinger and thumb, knowingly. Ginger grinned and then pursed her lips when he blew the smoke out. She sucked into her own mouth, their shared highs mingling with their flesh when he moved her panties to the side and let her slide onto him. 

It began to rain again, the gentle thundering mixing with the sounds of their pleasure. "Uhn, fuck," Ginger breathed as she rode against him. Her forehead fell against his shoulder as he gripped her hips, guiding her up and down his thick manhood. The slick sounds of her sex was music to his ears, the marijuana seeming to intensify everything about the moment—the way her breasts bounced, how her head fell back, his lips against her neck, and the feeling of him needing to release his seed. 

His thoughts intensified, too. He minded what was soon to come, the fight of his life, for the throne. He thought about who he would guide beneath his rule. He entertained who he would want by his side through it all. 

"Erik, Erik," Ginger moaned. He slapped her backside before gripping both cheeks into his palms. He thought about her body in Wakanda. He thought about needing Ginger's soul there, too. 

But it was wishful thinking. He could not take her; could not even introduce her to the idea of claiming his birthright. It was not safe, and he did not think he could stomach the look in her eye if he told her the cruelties by his hand. No, it was safer that she knew nothing other than his clean-slated companionship. 

Their union slowed after their orgasms swept through them. Ginger's thighs quivered, matching the beat of the rain contacting the roof above them and street below them. Erik chuckled, always finding it humorous that the brazen women became putty in his arms when he put her body through sensual intensity. 

"Come'ere." 

She lazily pulled her cheek from his shoulder to face him. He tucked a wispy tendril of hair behind her ear before pulling her into a kiss. It was gentler than before, thoughtful in its insistence. After a moment of pecking, the mutual feeling of gratitude and friendship between them, Ginger gently pulled away. 

She ran her fingers across his scalp, scratching it gently before letting them play with the locs against his forehead. She giggled tiredly, and Erik mused on how much he appreciated their softer times when his own personal dealings were stressful. She gazed at him thoughtfully, and Erik tilted his head, a non-verbal _what?_ in the movement. 

"Are you running from somethin', Erik?" The question was genuine, and he could see the concern etched into her brow. He did not answer. He turned his gaze to the drenched evening. 

"What'chu runnin’ from?” 

“Ain’t gotta worry about all’at.”

”Why not?” Ginger’s brow furrowed. “I know we just friends and cool like that, but I really care about you, Erik.”

”I lo-care about you, too.”

His heartbeat thumped at his near slip-up. Not that word. That word brought pain and he has been a stranger to it since he was a child. Love brought joy, but it brought despair, too. He did not like those odds.

Her sudden stillness sounded that she had heard him, almost heard him confess something that he had never told anyone else, at least not for a long time. He did not know why it had even been on his tongue. 

He dipped his head and took one of her nipples in his mouth to distract them both from the conversation. Ginger allowed it for a moment, placing her hand behind his head as he suckled them both, but when she felt his fingers reaching for her clit, she breathed out, “Stop.”

He did, reluctantly settling his back against the wall and looking at her, resigned. He reached for the blunt and lighter again, but Ginger grabbed his wrist.

“You love me?” she asked, eyeing him squarely. The stare was intense, and Erik had been foolish to think she would just drop it. 

Erik did not answer immediately, instead looking back out the window, trying to see if he could detect the raindrops in the dark. Ginger’s finger trailed his chin, burying itself in his beard so that she could turn his face back to hers. 

“Do you?” 

Erik canvassed her face, enjoying the way her dark complexion matched the deep sparkle of her eye, how her piercings shone in the dark, how her hair framed her face, and how her lips always seemed to be pleading for a chance to speak or a kiss.

“Yes.”

It was a meek response, a far cry from his typical assuredness, but it was the truth. He was not insane nor sprung like so many people his age seemed to get when shone the slightest attention. He felt it in places he thought had died. He loved her. 

“Well,” Ginger sighed, for the first time looking uncertain about what to say next. “That’s good, I guess.”

”You _guess_?” Erik had not just revealed something that did not even feel right coming out of his mouth for that response. 

She gazed at him, curiosity lining her features before it relaxed into a smile. “Yeah, ‘cause it woulda been hella awkward if you said no.” She laughed. “I love you, too.” 

Erik grinned tinily but said nothing more. He did not know how to act in love. He was complacent with just holding her in his arms, gazing at her through tired eyes. He was a man of few words, but he hoped the way his fingers caressed the small of her back showed what he could not say. 

Ginger relit the blunt and took a deep drag. She blew it out the window, one finger handling the plant and the other caressing the name of his neck. 

“Wherever you’re running to,” she began, gazing out the window, “can I come with you?” 


End file.
